


SWOON

by decompdoll



Series: Cadaverous [1]
Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloody Kisses, Corey is a Major Fucking Creep Alright, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Murder, Necrophilia, Obsession, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Smoking, Stalking, Throat Fucking, Wound Fucking, heed the fucking TAGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decompdoll/pseuds/decompdoll
Summary: 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶,𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵--𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶.𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦.In which Corey's obsession comes to a head one night.
Relationships: Joey Jordison/Corey Taylor
Series: Cadaverous [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574461
Comments: 20
Kudos: 54





	SWOON

**Author's Note:**

> out of all the shit i've put disclaimers on, this one needs it the most: this is 100% a work of fiction. if graphic depictions of non-con, necrophilia, and literal throat fucking makes you even remotely uncomfortable-- don't read this. all characters portrayed in this story are quite possibly the furthest thing from a reflection of those they are based upon. you have absolutely been warned.
> 
> anywho; if you couldn't tell, this is based off disasterpiece and prosthetics. takes place in 1998. if it makes it any better, i deleted a specifically graphic section for both yours and my sake. i'm unfortunately very proud of this.

_"Sid! Sid, man, chill the fuck out. I'll be fine, dude. Relax. I'm not dying. It just hurts when I press on it or fuck with the bandages. It's not like I can't walk... I'll be fine... Yeah, I know. It's been healing well, you shouldn't worry... Oh, come on. I know you didn't mean it..."_

Corey watched intently as the small man paced back and forth, twisting a thick strand of hair between his fingers. 

He took a breath.

"You were high as balls, dude. I almost broke your nose anyways, we're totally even... C'mon. You said Shawn was crashing at your place tonight, right? Is he there right now? Can I talk to him?"

By now, Corey could acknowledge that this wasn't a perfectly normal thing to do. Crouching outside a motel room, peering in through the window, glancing over his shoulder every fifteen seconds to make sure nobody was watching him, was most definitely _some_ kind of taboo. He wouldn't pretend it wasn't. But he just couldn't help himself.

Corey had met Joey once before, formally, and actually exchanged a few words, but he'd been in his presence countless times. It was never enough. Never.

By this point, year two of pursuing the boy, he knew plenty about him. He naturally had dark brown hair, but always wanted it darker. He actually acted on it a few weeks ago, dying it all pitch black before adding a strip of vibrant red through the middle a night or two later. 

He was small; skinny, and so abnormal short for a grown man that he more resembled a fourteen-year-old. The baby face definitely didn't help, and he unsurprisingly got carded every time he went out for liquor (Apparently, he preferred specifically _cheap_ beer over anything else.). He grew argumentative and borderline belligerent when he drank, which frankly didn't sound very different from his usual demeanor, but you could probably rile him up over a misplaced cup if he was deep enough in.

Jordison confused him, though. There weren't many aspects to him that didn't utterly bewilder Corey. He hid his face in just about every photo that was willingly taken, but would regularly spend hours preening in front of the mirror and wouldn't leave the house if he wasn't wearing those gaudy wristbands. Corey couldn't tell whether he wanted attention or not. 

But regardless of what Joey wanted, he was most definitely getting attention. He was just unaware of it. Thankfully. 

Corey checked his watch.

Eleven o' nine. Jo usually tried to get in bed by midnight. He had about an hour before he could somewhat relax.

The man finally settled down onto his ass, crisscrossing his legs and resting his chin on the window ledge.

He wasn't too particularly concerned about someone spotting him-- even though there was always the chance, the motel Joey had picked out was three stars at best, on the edge of town, and almost entirely vacant besides him and an older woman who was probably too buzzed to even notice he was there.

Worst case, her or one of the staff catch him, and he could just lean against the wall and say he's waiting for someone. 

The boy then spent something around half an hour chattering off into the phone, not giving the window a second glance despite pacing the entire time. 

Corey _knew_ he was getting too comfortable, he _knew_ it, but that didn't stop him. Normally, when he was, err, observing, he did his best to sit perfectly still to avoid drawing attention to himself. There'd been times where he slipped up; he'd rock without thinking about it, pull his hoodie up, shift to grab his camera, anything like that, and Joey would spot something moving from the corner of his eye. Of course Corey would always move out of sight before he could get a good look, and he'd be dismissed as a shadow or Jo's mind playing tricks on him.

"Yeah, uh-huh. You're still with Vanessa, though? I thought you said you'd break it off with her last week... I don't-"

Joey froze, and it took Corey far too long to realize that he'd been seen. They locked eyes for almost a full second and the smaller boy squinted before he slipped away from the window.

_Shit! Shit!_

Corey jerked himself up onto his feet and hauled off past the door around the corner, pressing his back to the hideously blue stucco wall. He'd been extremely fortunate with this trip so far, he couldn't blow it now. Joey might've had a habit of leaving doors unlocked, keeping windows open while he slept, giving Corey every single opportunity to get closer and closer. He couldn't lose this. He'd rather die than have him out of reach. 

Corey held his breath despite the wind and traffic already drowning out any remotely faint noises as he heard the door swing open, followed by the jangle of necklaces that he'd grown very familiar with. 

"Hey uh, Sid? Sid, hey. I'll-- uhm, I'll call you later, alright? I'm gonna go, just don't... Okay. Night dude, don't stay up too late... Alright, alright, bye. Bye."

Joey's voice faded out, followed by a beep and the door clicking shut loudly. Corey let out a sigh.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

No doubt he was gonna lock the door this time. Probably shut the blinds and draw the curtains too. He resisted the overwhelming urge to curse himself out, throw a fit and stomp off into the night like a spoiled little brat.

No, no, he was fine. He could chill. Relax. This wasn't over. It was just one fuck up. Joey could've been unnerved at most, that's it. He could give it a couple days and everything would go back to normal. Corey wasn't about to blow off his total infatuation with this guy over one slip. 

Why was he so upset over the concept of Joey locking the door anyways? He didn't actually plan to go inside tonight. It'd be way too risky. He'd only came to make sure Jo was doing alright. He didn't want to let him out of his sights. 

As strange as it sounded, he really, _really_ cared for the kid. He couldn't bear the idea of somebody harming him in any way. That's what fueled all this, he was sure of it. From the day that they met, he knew deep down that he would do damn near anything to make sure he could keep seeing Joey. 

Corey slid down the wall until his hands met the concrete, falling onto his hip awkwardly but making little to no effort to get properly situated. He didn't plan to sit here long. He had to do something, had to make a choice. 

One, he could leave. Go home. Get in his car, wait a couple days, then start his regular routine up again. Joey should probably be back in his house by then, and everything could go back to normal. Forget this ever happened, but be more careful. 

Or... He could stay. But what would he do if he stayed? Try to keep watching him? What if the blinds were shut? He doubted the door would be unlocked, so he couldn't head in for a closer look. And Joey would probably be on edge and even easier to wake up than he usually was. It's not like he'd have anywhere he could hide if he was caught inside. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't tilt the current situation in his favor. Why was it so tempting to hang around, though?

_Don't think about it. Don't think about it and just do what feels good. Doesn't matter if it causes trouble._

Right. Right. He'd be fine. 

But... That didn't answer his question. None of this felt good. But he could check.

Corey stood back up now that he had an inkling of a plan, peering around the corner just in case. Nobody was outside their door.

As casually as he could manage, he walked straight past Joey's room, barely giving a glance to the now _covered_ window. Shit. But he hadn't checked the door. 

Corey leisurely strolled down past two more rooms before turning back around, taking as much time as he was able to, which, honestly, wasn't much. His whole body was practically shaking with anticipation and fear while his head spun, making it increasingly difficult to walk slowly or in a straight line. But he dealt with it, and contained himself rather well.

He stood next to Joey's door for a good five minutes, head empty. He was trying to collect himself and actively failing, despite doing the whole breathing thing everyone always praised and various other exercises to relax himself. Why was he so nervous this time?

Corey eventually worked himself up to press his ear up against the door, listening for something, anything before he would try it. 

Nothing.

Harder?

After straining for a few moments, he finally heard water-- the shower, probably, definitely, going. It was worth a shot. 

Corey rested his hand on the doorknob, gripping it tightly but hesitant to try it. He wouldn't go in right _now,_ Joey was definitely awake. It'd be stupid to walk in. He was just testing to see if it was unlocked. Why the fuck were his hands getting sweaty? Whatever. Whatever.

He turned the knob and the door gave easily. His breath caught in his throat.

 _"Lucky bastard..._ " He muttered to himself, a slight smile creeping over his lips.

The odds were most definitely in his favor tonight. Did these doors even have locks on them? 

Corey then realized that he was standing there with the door cracked open. Right. He did what he came to do. For now, at least.

Shutting it as slow and quiet as he could, he crept away from the door, satisfied for the next few minutes. He should... Probably go back to his car now. Just in case Jo peeked outside again. 

Corey made his way into the parking lot and forced himself to sit down in the passenger seat, sweat excessively beading on his brow. 

Subconsciously he knew he was gonna do _something_ big tonight. Something that was going to change everything. He'd grown somewhat sick of looking but not touching, always. Joey was always so fucking untouchable. He'd somehow wormed the idea into his own head that Corey just couldn't taint the boy, could never dare to try and make him as filthy as himself. 

Corey couldn't get sicker than this. His morals had been tossed the moment he followed Joey off the bus and tracked him down to his house. He kept trying to stifle the disgusting fucking urges and convince himself that he wasn't a bad person, he wasn't _crazy._ He always struggled to keep it under a lid and he didn't know what it was that set him off tonight, but he couldn't stand to watch Joey eventually slip out of his grasp. 

Corey was all his. Whether he wanted him or not. Jo had driven him rabid with need, no, total desperation. He'd rather die than see anyone else try to touch him in a way that he'd been convinced was reserved for him, and only him. If things went well, Joey would be all his. And Corey knew he wanted him. More than anything.

* * *

Corey sat and waited for a good hour or two, struggling to entertain himself before he grew too impatient. 

Joey _had_ to be asleep by now. He checked his watch for the hundredth time. Two-thirty-eight AM. He never stayed up this late unless he was with friends, and he was most definitely alone as far as he knew. Hopefully he thought he was alone, at least.

He hesitated before he got out. Not consciously, and he barely acknowledged it after his feet were on the pavement, but the slight twitch of his fingers and the way his arm almost resisted the push said something he couldn't.

_U-uuu-p, and o-uuuu-t. Good._

Corey crammed his hands in his pockets after slamming his door a little too hard and cringing, walking stiff-legged towards the open building. God. He was really doing this, huh?

There wasn't any going back now.

He'd watched the yellow tinted lights go out in Joey's window maybe thirty minutes ago. Which in retrospect, wasn't that long ago, but every minute spent waiting felt like an hour. He just couldn't help himself anymore. He ran his fingers over the polish of his pocket knife before pulling it out, not flicking it out quite yet.

He wasn't going to hurt Jo. He could never.

Just in case.

Corey palmed it into his other hand as he reached the door, reaching for the knob as he took a deep breath.

No noises from inside. All he could hear was the somewhat distant roar of cars and his own ragged breathing.

He clicked the rather small, jagged blade out of its sheath and gripped the door handle, turning it as slow as he could. No creak. No response from inside. A faint, fuzzy glow dripped through the cracked door and spilled over Corey's wrist as he wedged it open a bit more, still without a reaction. He peered in.

There he was.

Hair wet, splayed over the pillows, his small body crumpled up right next to the half-dead bedside lamp, sheets obscuring his figure into a white, wrinkled silhouette. His head barely peaked out, but just enough for Corey to get a good look at him.

Expressionless. Asleep. Perfect. So fucking perfect, it almost made him angry. He looked like a living angel. He gripped his knife a bit harder, thumbing the flat upside as he stared. He slipped inside and shut the door. 

The door squealed. Probably not that loudly, But Corey flinched like it was a gunshot. He looked back to Joey. He hadn't twitched.

Something in Corey's guts churned, and the last traces of common sense in his head screamed to leave, back out, don't touch him. This was his only chance. Don't wade too deep, but he was already creeping towards Joey's sleeping form. 

Then he shifted. His eyes fluttered, a subtle noise escaped his lips and Corey's heart plummeted. 

He had barely lifted his hands to rub his face before Corey lunged towards him. The cheap mattress squeaked loudly with the sudden weight, and so did Joey before Corey clamped his free hand over the his mouth, straddling him and digging his heels into Jo's ankles. 

He thrashed violently, shaking his head, letting out muffled screams, grabbing at his arms and even tried to bite Corey's fingers until he finally managed to snag his knife onto Joey's throat. He froze almost instantaneously when the serrated edge dug into his flesh, his grip loosening and his whole body going stiff with fear.

Corey stared him dead in the eyes, still, as the gravity of the situation worked its way into Joey's skull. He saw too many emotions to identify; shock, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and everything in between before settling to sheer, unbridled terror.

He was silent.

The boy's eyes were stretched wide open, begging, _pleading_ for mercy.

It drove Corey fucking wild.

It took a notable amount of restraint for him to not press down harder, just to watch those mesmerizing blue eyes well up with more tears and feel his blood bead up onto his fingertips. _God,_ he wanted to fucking _taste it._

"Hey-- Joe."

Corey panted excitedly, his mouth pulled into the remnants of a grin. He could feel his chest beginning to rise and fall even faster and his erratic breath on his hand. Joey tried to lean away when Corey as he dipped closer, evidently failing as the pillows could only sink in so much.

"I don't want to hurt you-- _Jesus, fuck--_ I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

He whispered. A tear rolled down the side of Joey's face. He choked and winced, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Ow.

"Oh, well that hurt. Look at me, baby. Look at me. Open your eyes."

He furiously shook his head, and Corey shakily pressed the blade in just a bit more seriously. He felt something warm and wet on his thumb. Joey tried to yelp and his eyes snapped open. 

So much power.

He had so much power over him right now. Jo belonged to him, in this moment.

He didn't have a choice, and the kind of high that gave Corey was incredible.

"See..? That wasn't so hard. You have very pretty eyes, Joey."

By this point, he was definitely awake enough to actually process what Corey was saying. He looked terribly confused, obviously searching his head for any semblance of a memory attached to this man's face. Nothing came up, Corey could see it in his face. 

"Right. Heh... Right. Sorry about that. I met you on the bus about two or so years ago. You asked me what the next stop was, remember?"

Joey shook his head, much more gentle and slow. That was better. It's not like he'd expected him to recognize him, anyways.

"Yeah... Didn't think you would. But," 

Corey shifted his sneakers on Joey's ankles, so that he wasn't pressing quite so hard but still had a firm enough grip and he was still very much so pinned down. His hands had fallen palms up, beside his head, totally fucking surrendered. This made Corey go borderline insane. His brain would have been doing backflips right now, if that was a phrase.

Total submission.

How did he get this lucky?

"But, I've been watching you since. You just caught me completely off guard when I saw you, I couldn't _not_ follow you back to your place."

Joey was beginning to tense up once again. Corey ignored it. Of course he was scared. He loved every bit of it.

"I love you so much. You're so fuckin' flawless, it makes my head hurt. You've put me in my own hell-- Without even knowing it! How crazy is tha--" 

Corey was cut off when Joey bit his finger at the base and pain seared up his arm, before letting out a choked scream and bucking _hard._

Joey's hands shot up and he managed to land a solid shot at Corey's jaw, ripping himself out from under him and latching onto the bedside table. So loud. 

He wacked the alarm off the table, which hit the carpet with a harsh thud, only adding onto the racket Joey was making. 

Corey's blade didn't even hit the bed before he leapt up after him, his hand grazing Joey's back once before he grabbed out again and getting a handful of damp hair. He let out a shortlived screech before Corey reached in front of him and swiped that wretched little edge deep in Joey's throat.

It happened too fast.

There was blood. 

_Alot._

Projectile spray all over the door that was barely a foot away, across the tacky orange walls, nearly blinding Corey when he thoughtlessly jerked Joey's convulsive body against his chest. 

Corey held onto Joey tight, wrapping his arms around his torso in a tense hug from the back. He buried his face in the side of his neck, and waited for it to be over as he listened to Jo gurgle and rasp wetly as he desperately struggled to breathe. Corey had no clue people even _bled_ that much, ever.

It wasn't long until Joey quit gagging and went limp. Or maybe it was. Corey spent the whole time with a both hands in his drenched, now sticky hair, considering that he'd dropped the knife the second it slid out of Joey's windpipe, face pressed into him like he was trying to hide. 

He even stood there for a minute. Just holding the now lifeless body as close as he could, gore dripping down his arms and staining his sleeves. Corey kissed him a few times, too, but not on the lips. Up his mutilated neck and across one of his tear stained cheeks, before laying him down on the floor as if he were fine China. 

Corey refused to look up at the mess they'd made. He would look at Joey, and only Joey. 

He had drained this boy of everything. 

Talent. Friends. Family, possible children, anyone else's love, anger, joy, hate, love, everything, _everything, **everything.**_

And yet?

This overwhelmed Corey with happiness. Not satisfaction, no, not yet, but the motionless body laid out under him filled him with nothing but love and pride. He had done this. And nobody else.

"Oh, Joey..." He trailed off, as he lifted his head up and pressed it into his abdomen, curling over him. Corey's fingers traced along his back, up into his hair, into his scalp. He was trembling with excitement.

"I love you so much. So, _so,_ much. I'd die for you, you know that? Anything for you. You're so good, Joey. I love yo-oou..!" 

Corey hummed ecstatically as he let Joey's weight slump onto his arm, letting go of his hair to undo his jeans. He just didn't care anymore. He needed this. He knew Jo needed this too. Corey was doing this for the both of them. 

Eagerly exposing himself, he hoisted Joey back up and shuffled a little closer, letting the boy's head slack to the side. 

_He's so open. It's right there._

A few fresh droplets oozed from the wound as he pressed the tip of his cock into it. 

Holy fucking shit.

Corey glanced up to Joey's eyes, which gazed back at him thoughtlessly. Glazed and unmoving, so gorgeous, but no longer untouchable. He was _filthy._ Covered in sweat, spit and blood, but Corey could swear those eyes were enticing him further, knowingly. 

He'd wanted to do this for so fucking long. Corey could feel his breath quickening and his hands were trembling so hard that he could barely line Jo up, awkwardly shifting him up against his arm until he simply wrapped his hand around the back of his neck. His nails dug into the edges of the gash and blood immediately drooled down, all the way down until it welled up in the hem of his sleeve. Corey shuddered, and sighed before he sunk deep into Joey's throat.

God, it was so fucking _different_.

Not that it was bad, no, god, no, it was fucking divine. The amalgamation of muscle, flesh, blood, and tendons was bizarre but fantastic. Overwhelmingly so. He almost had to catch his breath as he began to pound into the wound.

If he was this good of a fuck in death,Corey couldn't even imagine what it would've been like while he still had some semblance of a pulse. What it might've been like to listen to him choke and sob, how it would've felt to have Joey squirm and tense up with the intrusion. The thought alone, combined with the sensations nearly sent him over the edge right there.

"Oh my _go-ooo-d, Joey..."_

Corey groaned as he dug his free hand into Joe's hair, tipping his head back when he picked up the pace. A shortlived concern buzzed into his mind when he heard something pop, peering down for only a moment to notice nothing new. He reached up to peel the long, dark strands of hair stuck to the boy's face, his fingers sliding through easily with sweat and half dried blood.

It's not like Joey was fragile or flimsy, by any means. He'd seen him do plenty of shit that said otherwise, and even if he hadn't, the ache in his jaw reaffirmed the fact that he could most definitely handle Corey. He grinned to himself, and nearly dropped Joey when his cock dragged along something smooth and hard. Something clicked.

He didn't even bother checking; he already knew it was bone. Corey let out a strangled moan as he fucked himself into the self carved orifices, his skull full of frothing ecstasy and he pressed Joey's face into his stomach when he bottomed out to savor the sudden orgasm as long as he could.

"Jesus Christ, fuck--"

He muttered between pants and breathless nonsense. It took him a few to actually pull out, struggling to pry his own hands off Joey long enough to put himself away. 

Corey sat back down slowly, leaning him down and settling comfortably on the dear boy's lap as he actually waited for the weight of what he had just done. He waited for the guilt, disgust, and remorse to hit him while he idly dipped his fingers into Joey's throat, not tearing his stare from his lips. It never came.

He wasn't totally sure what he would do now.

Although his heart was still pounding, his mind had melted into near sludge. He didn't dare try to process the figurative and literal mess on his hands. He'd probably give himself an aneurysm.

"If it's... Uhh... Any consolation," Corey murmured, trailing gore and cum up Joey's chin with his fingertips. 

"I still think you're very pretty. It makes me kinda upset, to be honest. That people like you are just..." 

He paused, getting up and moving to his side to crouch over him properly. Corey's hand returned to Joey's face, stoking his cheek sweetly. It was nice to have him so passive and accepting for once, but he was a little too tame for Corey's taste like this. 

"...Walking around. Taunting the ugly kids. I know you don't do it on purpose, though, babe. You're not like that." 

Shutting his eyes, he lowered his head to kiss the dead boy. Joey's jaw fell slack easily and Corey wouldn't deny himself the opportunity to get a taste. One last fucking taste before the night was over. 

* * *

A few minutes later, and Corey was on the road. He'd only cleaned himself up before leaving, changing into some of the clothes he'd found in Joey's suitcase. Unsurprisingly it fit, considering that the kid never seemed to wear anything that wasn't eight sizes too big. 

It was something of a trophy, almost. Something that smelled like him, something Corey had seen Joey wear on multiple occasions. He wouldn't have it for long, probably. He'd left a gruesome mess in the room and didn't put any effort into trying to clean it up, accepting whatever the fuck would happen to him from this point on. 

Corey was satiated, and there was no point in trying to hide from the cops that would inevitably chase him down. It didn't even matter. A bleary, half-assed smirk tore at his lips as he came to a red light, reaching for the pack of smokes on his right and the lighter in his pocket. 

It didn't even matter.


End file.
